


History Repeats

by SingingInTheRaiin



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, F/M, Hannibal's name always starts with 'h', Historical AU, I guess technically, M/M, Period Typical Homophobia, Will's name always starts with 'w', both of them seem to really like getting stabby, in various lives, lying, not extremely difficult to figure out, the f/m is still between Hannibal and Will, violently dying over and over again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 19:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18414548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingInTheRaiin/pseuds/SingingInTheRaiin
Summary: For as long as humans have been around, Hannibal and Will had been caught up in a deadly game, one life after another. Each time, only one of them can remember their past lives, and each time, they will be out for revenge, resulting in a loop of never ending revenge.





	History Repeats

To his horror, he realized that he’d been this way before. It came back to him in blurry flashes and vague nightmares, but it was all clear enough to figure out the truth of it. He and his lover had been through this song and dance before. Should he even say ‘lover’ anymore? The one thing that he remembered with complete clarity from his previous life was the ending, which had been brought about by the same damned man who he shared a life with now. 

Even now, he thought that confronting him was the stupidest thing he could possibly do, and yet what other choice did he have? Was he just supposed to wait meekly until the day he was murdered once more? Or flee to the hills and spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulders? 

No, neither of those were the right answer. So he took a deep breath, and stepped into the small hut that he and his lover shared. It was just outside of the village, because the others accepted the relationship so long as they did not have to see it. His lover was inside, gathering up some precious herbs to go along with the fish that he had spent all day catching. 

His lover turned around to greet him, but looked slightly confused at the lack of fish in his hands. He’d given his catches to some of the other village men, thinking that it would be difficult to be taken seriously with some dead fish in his hands. He took in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “Do you remember the other?”

His lover tilted his head. “Other what?”

“Lives.”

Though some in the village found his lover frightful at times, due to the man’s perfectly blank visage, he had always been able to read the feelings written across the features, and right now, there was curiosity and some confusion, but nothing that indicated his lover knew what he now did. “What do you mean?” If he was a normal village man returning home to his wife with no fish, he was sure that she would barrage him with questions about that, and insult his skills. But his lover understood that what was going on right now had nothing to do with some meat. 

He frowned as he tried to think of how to explain everything without sounding too crazy. “We have met before. In a different life. We were together then too. And then I died by your hands.” He knew that there was a challenging look on his face, just daring his lover to doubt him or try to argue.

His lover was smart enough to read the warnings. “I don’t understand,” he confessed in rare form. His lover always prided himself on being the most intelligent man in the village. “I have no wish to kill you.”

He thought of the other things he had remembered about the previous life, even if it was not quite so clear in his mind. “Perhaps not me, but you cannot deny that you have a wish to kill others.”

His lover seemed to freeze in place, and gave him the coldest look he had ever gotten from him before. “What are you talking about?”

He clenched his jaw, unwilling, and at this point unable, to back down now. “When that man went missing last winter, everyone assumed that he had been lost to the wild. It is also a time where you and I ate well despite the others having so little food. And in our past life, you killed others, and I tried to stop you.”

“Is that what you’re doing now?”

He balled his hands into fists, ready to throw a punch if necessary. “I will bring you before the village and let them decide your punishment.”

His lover slowly prowled closer to him, reaching out to brush a hand across the side of his face. “Oh but they would be so cruel with me. Is that what you want?”

He hesitated. “I just-” and then there was a searing pain in his neck, and he looked at his lover with wide eyes, though he felt more resigned than shocked. He should have known that this was coming. 

Instead of letting him collapse to the floor, his lover dropped to his knees while cradling him in his arms. His lover held him tenderly, and despite the fact that he couldn’t breath, and was choking on his own life source, he felt loved.

,,,

Wilhelm woke slowly, and shivered at the chilled air of the room. He threw back the thin blanket that had covered him, and left his straw bed, and walked over to the firepit, which Hannah was crouching in front of. “It’s too cold to be out in the middle of the night. Come back to bed.”

She shook her head, and spoke in the same solemn voice as always. “I cannot. I have realized something important.” Then she turned to look at Wilhelm almost accusingly. “I remembered an old thing. You ruined everything. I was kicked out of the village because of you.”

Wilhelm felt confused. “What are you talking about?”

Hannah suddenly stood up, and slapped Wilhelm across the cheek. “You ruined everything.” She rushed around to stand behind him, and then shoved him right towards the firepit.

Wilhelm stumbled around it, and looked at his wife with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I am starting to detect a pattern now. So I will get out my anger at you now, and we will try again in the future.” Wilhelm didn’t know what was going on, but he refused to attack his wife, even as she continued to attack him. She started grabbing clay jars from around the room, and throwing them at Wilhelm. He dodged some, but a few smashed into the side of his head, dazing him and making him stagger back. 

Then she grabbed one of the shards from one of the broken pots, and started stabbing it into Wilhelm’s side. He doubled over, coughing out blood. He grabbed one of the other fallen shards, finally ready to fight back, but it was far too late. He was already weakened, and she kept going with a cold, precise fury.

,,,

Wandering through the marketplace was always the highlight of Wanda’s week. It was a time where she was free for a day, and allowed to make her own choices, and didn’t have to listen to her father remind her for the thousandth time that if she didn’t fix her attitude, no one would want to marry her. 

She walked over to a man selling fish, and thoughtfully shifted through all of them until she’d picked out the couple that were in the best condition, and bartered to get them for a single coin and a few fishing lures she’d made herself. As she headed away, she accidentally bumped into someone. “Sorry,” she muttered, ready to move on.

“It’s quite alright,” came a polite, accented voice.

Wanda felt suddenly frozen in place. She knew that voice, didn’t she? She’d heard it in her dreams before. A million thoughts ran through her mind about what she could do now, including to just walk away, but she refused to just accept that. So she took a deep breath, and then offered up the most charming smile she could manage without any practice. “Let me share a meal with you to make up for it?”

The man turned to face her more fully, and his eyes flicked up and down her body before meeting her gaze. He gave her a small smile. “Ah, how could I say no to such a kind offer? I’m Harry.”

“Wanda,” she introduced herself. Then she led Harry away from the market, and in the opposite direction of her house. On market days, there were very few people around who weren’t actually in the market itself, which gave her some space to work with. She brought Harry to the small area between a couple of houses, and then turned to look at him. “Sorry, I just feel like I already know you.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m sure that I would remember a face like yours.”

Wanda’s face went a bit pink, and then she dropped her basket to lunge forward and pull Harry into a kiss. It was the most inappropriate and impulsive thing she’d ever done before, and her heart was pounding like crazy, but she couldn’t deny that it did feel good. 

And then she pulled away, panting for breath. “Sorry, I just… sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Harry told her, sounding somewhat amused, and somewhat just as out of breath as her. 

Wanda crouched down to gather up all her fallen goods, and while she was down there, she casually grabbed the knife that she kept in her boot. Her father always told her not to leave the house without it. Then she slowly stood up, basket in hand, and moved like she was going to kiss Harry again. But instead, she drove the knife right into his heart. “Not this time, you bastard,” she said softly. 

For just a moment, she wondered if her dreams had been just that- dreams. It would mean that she’d most likely murdered an innocent man. But then she decided that there was no way all of it could have been imagined up. She’d done the right thing by getting rid of this monster. 

,,,

Warner nodded towards his quartermaster. “Yes, sounds like a good plan to me. Now we just need to…”

He trailed off at the loud call of “Sails!” coming from the man up in the bird’s nest. Both Warner and his quartermaster rushed out to demand more information. “They’re raising the black!”

The ship was weighed down by all of their cargo. There was no way that they were going to be able to maneuver their way out of this. “Prepare to surrender!” Warner barked out. He could hear his orders repeated across the ship. Illness had been plaguing the ship for the past week and they were now running with just a skeleton crew. There was no way they’d be able to fight off pirates. 

It didn’t take long for the other ship to approach and set out a board to cross onto Warner’s ship. The pirates looked around, seeming somewhat disappointed by the lack of fight, but they seemed to accept the surrender. Then a man in a dark black coat leapt down off the board, a fancy looking sword swinging in the scabbard on his hip. 

He looked at all of the kneeling crewmembers. “Which of you is the captain?”

Warner gulped once before getting to his feet, and shifting to make sure he kept his face neutral. “Captain Warner Heathcliffe.”

The man strode over to to Warner, a strangely curious look on his face. “Captain Heather Fisk.”

Some of Warner’s men gasped at the name. They all knew the infamous pirate’s name. He was known for being quite ruthless if he detected even the smallest slight against himself or his crew. “The entire cargo manifest is on the desk in my cabin. We have no wish to lose our lives today.”

The pirate smiled. “And your men won’t. Unfortunately for you, I remember you all too well. And I cannot allow you to live.”

Warner furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you talking about? We’ve never even met before-!” There was the loud crack of a pistol, and then nothing.

,,,

Wilson was in the middle of reading the the book he’d recently been gifted by his wife. The carriage ride was bumpy, but he was enjoying the book enough that he barely even noticed. But he definitely noticed when the carriage came to an abrupt stop. Wilson set the book aside, and then popped the door open to peer out at his driver. “What’s going on?”

“My Lord, he just ran right out into the road! I could not stop in time!”

Wilson frowned, and hopped out, ignoring the way that mud instantly covered his boots. He walked around to the front of the carriage, and saw a man sprawled out in front of the horses, who were shifting their legs around and letting out nervous snorts. Wilson knelt down next to him. “Sir, are you-?”

The man suddenly moved, grabbing at Wilson and flipping them so that Wilson was pinned to the ground and there was a knife at his throat. “Be a good boy and stay here while my colleagues search for valuables, if you have any wish to live past today.”

But Wilson found himself tuning the man’s words out, more focused on those familiar facial features. “You,” he breathed out. Then he headbutted the bandit, not caring about the way the knife cut into his neck. They began to tussle on the ground, rolling around in the mud, splattering it everywhere. 

They both grappled for the knife, and he could feel the bandit’s curious eyes on him even as he fought. “I don’t recall ever meeting you before, so where does this sudden hostility come from?”

Wilson let out a grunt of exertion as a knee dug into his stomach. “You’ll probably figure it out yourself next time around.” As far as he could tell from all of the memories he had of past lives, so far a pattern seemed to be followed of each of them remembering every other time. It was rather inconvenient, though perhaps what made it truly a miserable situation is that they never purposely sought each other out, they just had bad enough luck to always encounter each other.

The answer seemed to puzzle the bandit, and it was enough of a distraction to elbow him in the face and grab the knife, and then drive it into the bandit’s neck. He didn’t even know the man’s name in this life, and he didn’t care to. 

,,,

Wyatt clapped his hands together in delight as the lights flickered on for the first time. “It’s like it’s daylight right inside my house!” 

The man who’d installed all the lights seemed contagiously affected by Wyatt’s good mood. “Indeed. I’m glad that you like it, sir. Now if you’ll just sign here to say that I put them all in properly, and I’ll be on my way. Enjoy your lights, sir.”

Once the electricians were gone, Will walked around from room to room enjoying the lights on the walls. It really was amazing how much things advanced. Not just within society, but for him personally. Growing up, he’d never have thought he’d someday have enough money to have electricity in his home. It had been a long process to get everything fully installed, but it had been completely worth it. 

After carefully turning off the lights in each room so that his bill wouldn’t be too high, Wyatt decided to head out for a night on the town. He usually preferred to stay in his house, which was just outside of the city, because he felt like he could do his writing much easier without the distractions of all the different city noises. But that didn’t stop him from enjoying those distractions on occasion.

Wyatt went to a small pub that he liked. It never got too crowded in there, and the owner would sometimes bring his dog in to spend the day and play with the customers. When he heard the friendly greeting bark as he stepped inside, Will grinned and knew that it was going to be a good night. 

A few hours passed, and Wyatt ended up engaged in a very fascinating conversation with the owner, every so often getting a free refill when the owner waved the bartender aside. He looked over on instinct when the door opened, and a man walked in who Wyatt had never seen before.

He was dressed like a proper gentleman as he made his way over to the bar, and gave his order in a soft, foreign sounding voice. The owner of the bar gave Wyatt a hearty pat on the back as he looked over at the newcomer. “Have ya noticed that yer in the presence of a famous man right now?”

The stranger looked over at them curiously, and his eyes widened for a moment when they landed on Wyatt. “Is that so?”

The owner nodded enthusiastically. “This here is Wyatt Hamilton. Made a fortune offa writing pretty words about this fine city of ours.”

The stranger smiled. “I have heard the name before.”

By the end of the evening, Wyatt was leading the stranger, whose name turned out to be Hayden, back to his house just outside the city. One of the other benefits of not having any neighbors was that Wyatt could bring home men with no worries about what anyone might think of it. 

They didn’t bother with the pretext of coffee, and went straight to the bedroom, where Wyatt was happy to flick on the light. It really was incredibly bright right inside the house, and didn’t require the same constant attention that flames did. 

He and Hayden practically tore each other’s clothes off before falling onto the bed together, and by the time they were done, Wyatt was not shy about telling Hayden what a good time that had been.

Normally Wyatt would throw someone out once they were finished, because he felt like a night together got a lot more awkward once breakfast and daylight was involved, but he felt so strangely comfortable in Hayden’s presence that he ended up falling asleep before he could say anything about it.

And he was certainly not expecting to be woken up from such a peaceful sleep by the sharp pain in his stomach, and he opened his eyes in a panic. Hayden was sitting over him, and Wyatt reached up to grab at the other man’s wrists to stop him from pulling the blade out, but he was already weakened and in shock, and Hayden was able to remove it and stab it back in. “You’re right, I did figure it out,” he said in a perfectly calm voice.

“What?” Wyatt wheezed out. His vision grew dark, and there was nothing his new electricity could do to fix that.

,,,

Waylon shivered, and pulled his meager coat tighter around him, though it wasn’t very helpful against the harsh wind outside. When he’d first run away from home over the summer, he’d been certain that he’d be able to survive, since he was always good at taking care of himself anyways. But as winter approached, he was starting to see that life on the roadside was just not sustainable. 

If he went to the police, or any shelters for help, they would ask him where his parents were, and would probably try to search him up to figure it out for sure. But that would reveal to them that he was only fifteen, and they would probably send him right back home. They may as well send him straight into the bowels of hell if they were going to do that. 

There was a nice looking house, and even though Waylon knew that it would be foolish to beg for scraps from strangers, he could also only hope that the goodwill of others would keep him alive long enough to figure out how to make his parents regret everything that they’d done to him. 

And if he did nothing, he would die anywhere, frozen to death in what felt like the middle of nowhere. So he knocked, though it made his frozen fingers ache to do so, and after what felt like hours, the door swung open, revealing a boy who looked to be a few years younger than Will. “It’s rude to come over so late,” he said softly, and the statement was punctuated with a yawn. Then he tilted his head and gave Waylon a curious look. “Who are you?”

Waylon bit back a gasp as he recognized the boy, even if he’d never seen him look so young before. “C-c-can I c-c-come in? I’m f-f-freezing out here.” His teeth were chattering, and his arms were wrapped tightly around himself, and he knew that his lips were probably tinged blue.

The boy’s eyes widened, and then he stepped aside so that Will could enter. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Waylon felt almost overwhelmed by the warmth of the house, and was quick to close the door behind him. He followed the boy down a short hallway, and into a nice looking kitchen. “I’ll make you hot chocolate,” the boy declared.

Waylon grabbed the mug as soon as it was placed in front of him, and it felt like it was melting the skin off his palms because of how hot it was, but he started chugging it down anyways, not caring about the way it scalded his tongue and throat. Then he set it down, and looked over at where the boy was standing on a small stool in front of the stove, stirring at a pot of soup. 

For however long this cycle had been going on between the two of them, it had been one long game of killing each other before they could be killed. Waylon knew that, because he’d seen it in so many dreams. He’d assumed that they were fake, but now that he was actually in front of his enemy, he could feel just how real they were.

But how the hell could Waylon kill a little kid? “How old are you?” he suddenly asked.

The boy glanced over his shoulder at Waylon for a moment. “Ten.” Then he turned back to his cooking as if it were the most important thing in the world.

Waylon gulped. He knew that he should do it. That most recent life had seemed to be particularly unfairly weighted against him, and if he didn’t do it now, then what was to stop him from being the one killed this time? That would make twice in a row against him, and he didn’t like the sound of that.

But as the kid set a bowl of steaming hot soup in front of him, Waylon didn’t think he had it in him to kill the kid. “Make sure you wait for it to cool first,” he told Waylon pointedly. 

This kid had just let a complete stranger into his house, and had given him warm food and drink without even asking his name or anything else about him. Waylon’s shoulders slumped down as he figured out that he would definitely have to break the pattern. He just couldn’t hurt a little kid, especially one so kind to him.

After he’d finished a couple bowls of soup, the kid led him into a different room, and pointed to the couch. “You can sleep there for the rest of the night. You should probably leave in the morning, though. My parents might not like you being here.”

Waylon nodded gratefully, and curled up on the couch, falling asleep almost immediately. He woke up to find a nice blanket draped over him. The coffee table next to the couch had a backpack, and a warm looking coat, along with a piece of paper that just said ‘for you, breakfast in oven’. 

He found french toast on a plate in the oven. It was cold, but still fresh, and Waylon quickly ate it all. Then he went back to the living room to check the bag. It had some cans of soup, a can opener, a jar of peanut butter, a slightly squished loaf of bread, and a package of crackers. 

Waylon clutched the bag tightly to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut to stop himself from crying. He and his enemy could be so kind to each other when they wanted to be. He quickly pulled on the coat and the backpack and hurried to leave the house. He had no idea how it would affect the future to not kill his enemy now, but he knew that he was doing the right thing by leaving.

,,,

Will was pissed that Jack had called in a therapist to try and psychoanalyze him. He didn’t care what Jack thought, he knew that he was perfectly capable of keeping himself sane and well. And he definitely didn’t need that posh, stuck up looking man to be the one to ‘help’ him with anything.

He stormed out of Jack’s office and straight to his classroom, even though he knew that there was still another forty minutes at least until his next class would meet. But he just had to get away from those men who seemed to think that they were experts on knowing what was best for Will, even though they really didn’t know anything about him at all.

There were footsteps getting closer, and Will quickly looked up from the paper he’d been in the middle of grading. He scowled when he saw Lecter walking towards him. “What are you doing here?”

Lecter stopped a few feet away from Will’s desk, and held his hands out in a gesture of peace. “I had no intention of offending you during that meeting.” He was giving Will this weird, searching look, and Will didn’t understand what the doctor could be looking for. “I had not intended for you to feel as though you were being ganged up on, and I’m sure that Jack Crawford did not intend for such a thing either. I would like to offer my apologies for how that meeting played out. Please, allow me to provide you dinner to make it up to you.”

Will narrowed his eyes, and tried to focus on Lecter enough to get a read off him. But the man apparently had giant ice walls in his mind, or something, because Will was having a difficult time getting anything from him. It was a bit unnerving, but when he gave it a little more thought, Will decided that it might be nice to have dinner with someone who wasn’t going to scare Will off with their private thoughts before the evening was even through. “Fine, I’ll have dinner with you, Dr. Lecter.”

The grin on Lecter’s face didn’t quite look happy, but Will wasn’t sure what it was supposed to look. “Please, call me Hannibal. I’d like to believe that we could become friendly with one another.”

Will doubted that that could happen, but he just shrugged. “Alright, Hannibal.” He gave his email instead of his phone number for them to figure out the details of having dinner together, and then basically kicked the doctor out of the classroom so that he could get some more grading done before the next class arrived.

,,,

“You know me, Will,” Hannibal whispered as he cupped the side of Will’s face. “You’ve seen me so many times before.”

Will furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

Hannibal was giving him a combined look of fondness and exasperation that seemed to be reserved solely for Will. “Why did you spare me last time? It was your turn.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Will couldn’t help staring at Hannibal like he was a crazy person. He’d shown up at the house tonight to leave with Hannibal, but he didn’t understand why Hannibal kept looking at him like that, and was talking nonsense. It was different than his usual weird metaphorical language, it was just weird. 

Hannibal was staring at Will so intently. “I don’t understand why you were the one who broke it. The same thing happening over and over again, until you were the one who decided to be unpredictable. You must have died young, then, for me to have ended up so much older than you this time.”

Will pulled away from Hannibal’s hand, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Seriously, what the hell are you talking about?”

Hannibal didn’t seem deterred by Will’s confusion. “Do I still get my turn if you forfeited yours? I suppose that there is only one way to find out.” And then there was a hunting knife tearing through Will’s stomach. Hannibal held him gently as he collapsed to the ground, and he was given a single kiss on the lips before Hannibal stood up to walk away.

Will clutched at the injury, feeling like all of his organs were about to spill out across the floor. “Where are you going?” he called out as loudly as he could manage with how much pain he was feeling. 

But Hannibal didn’t answer before walking away.

,,,

When Will woke up in a hospital bed to a chorus of nurses telling him how lucky he was to be alive, he remembered everything.

,,,

It’s not like there was anything less subtle than a giant heart put on display just for him to see. Will was tempted to just stay away and not get involved. Hannibal was trouble, and had been for hundreds of years. Maybe longer, but the further back lives were harder to remember, and Will didn’t actually know how far back any of this went, or when it had started. 

Will headed down into the catacombs, and was almost surprised by how calm he felt. Maybe while he was down there Hannibal would get the chance to finish what he’d started, or maybe Will would have the opportunity for revenge. But no matter what happened, he couldn’t see it making any difference, since they’d just be back to play again soon enough.

He was vaguely aware of the inspector somewhere behind him, but no longer cared. It was like all of his attention was focused solely on Hannibal, and nothing else at all. He stopped in the middle of the space between a few columns and looked around. Hannibal had to be somewhere nearby, lurking in the dark.

Will cleared his throat once. “Hannibal!” His voice echoed around the room, and it seemed way too loud. “I remember everything,” he continued in a softer voice. “It seems as though we’ve spent an eternity constantly trying to get back at each other, hasn’t it? You asked me before why I didn’t kill you the last time. It’s because we were both just kids. And because I was tired of all the killing. Of our blood being spilled over and over again. It’s such a tiresome game, and I realized that we could be better than that, at least to each other. There was never anything forcing us to continue this stupid game, other than some sense of revenge that just keeps building up and looping over and over again, starting somewhere too far back for me to even remember anymore.” He let out a soft sigh. “If you want to kill me, then do it, but it’s not going to accomplish anything except for your death the next time around.”

Suddenly it seemed like Hannibal just materialized out of nowhere, and he stood just in front of Will. “And what are you suggesting as an alternative? You’ve already proven that not killing each other doesn’t change anything.”

Will shrugged. “Maybe we’re doomed to just keep living over and over and finding each other in every life for the rest of eternity. But I can think of a lot of better ways to spend that much time than murdering each other. We’ve found ways in a few other lives.”

Hannibal was silent for a long minute, and the two of them just stared at each other in the dimly lit cavern, surrounded by the old bones of people long forgotten. “I fear that there is no one in the world who will ever know me as you do.”

“Same here,” Will murmured. 

They stared at each other for another few seconds, before they both seemed to move at the same time, grabbing and kicking and punching wherever they could manage to land a blow. It was violent and messy and fierce, and it also seemed to be the first battle between them where no weapons were involved. 

They ended up on the ground, rolling around on the dusty concrete, and then, as if some silent communication had been passed between them, they both surged forward simultaneously to slam their mouths together. Will could taste the coppery blood filling his mouth, though it was beyond his ability at the moment to be able to figure out whose it was. 

Eventually, Will’s lungs were aching for air, and he had to tear his mouth away to gasp in several deep breaths. He looked at Hannibal once he’d managed to catch his breath fully, and found that the other man was already staring at him. “What am I going to do with you?” he said softly. “It seems impossible to rid myself of you.”

“Do you ever remember what happens after? In the past when we kill each other?”

Hannibal hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Every time, after you were dead, I went on to live my life as it had been before, but I began to feel as though all my memories were more and more real, until living without you felt unbearably lonely. But I never remembered that part until after you were gone.”

Will nodded. “It was the same for me. Like some kind of punishment for killing you, even though I wasn’t given any advanced warning that it would occur. But this time, we can remember the after parts before it happens.”

They both stared at each other for long moments, and then finally Hannibal got to his feet, and offered one hand down to help Will up as well. “You are perhaps my greatest weakness in life, Will. and yet I cannot rid myself of you.”

“I’ll give you strength, too,” Will promised. “Just like you’ll give me. I think we’ll be okay, as long as we stick together.”

They exchanged another kiss, though this one was much shorter than before. “Yes, I think that perhaps we will,” Hannibal agreed. He and Will held each other’s hands as they walked towards the exit of the catacombs. As they passed by the inspector, they exchanged a single look that seemed to convey an entire conversation, and then for the first time, they worked together to leave behind a trail of blood that was not each other’s.


End file.
